


Jailbait

by Rahn (Rahndom)



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahndom/pseuds/Rahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one of the bimestrial meetings of the Batfamily, its members discuss an abnormal paraphillia and the way Tim seems to be the recipient of most of those affected by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jailbait

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve read a lot of fics dealing with a certain villain or another pursuing Tim and my brain always wanted to come up with an explanation for such a fenomena. Then I made a mental list of the most used characters for such fics, noticed the pattern and… viola? n__ñUu this is me trying to be funny, I hope you don’t mind?

If anyone would have told Dick Grayson that one day he would be sitting on the Batcave on the bimestrial meeting of the Batfamily, where Tim, Damian and Jason would actually get along – as much as they could, anyway – and Bruce would lay down orders for them all before they went their separate ways, he would have laughed for a while, then hugged whoever told him such silly thing just because it was a beautiful dream.

Almost a deranged version of the grown up sons coming to see their aging pops every few months just to see him happy.

Not that Bruce was aging – all that time travelling and dimension jumping tended to slow ones age, apparently – or happy, really, but it was the thought that counted, right?

Which was the reason for his almost face-splitting grin as he took his accustomed blue seat at the new meeting table set on the cave, with Tim to his right and Damian to his left, while Jason lounged with an arm resting on the third Robin’s shoulders as he laughed at the younger man’s embarrassment.

Hell, even Bruce seemed mildly amused by the situation at hand – as you could tell by the way he hadn’t started discussing business yet – and Tim’s pathetic attempts to push Jason off him.

“Jason, stop calling me that!” he protested, his cheeks flushing. “I think I’m too old enough already.”

“You know you are not a conventional Jailbait, Baby Bird,” the older man laughed, ruffling his hair. “But it’s a trend with you, somehow! When Dickie’s rouge’s see him, they pull guns and start the taunting, when mine see me, they scream, when B’s see him they shit their pants.”

“Todd, that never actually happens,” Damian protested, his arms crossed over his chest. He was the only one, apparently, not understanding the humor in such conversation.

“It’s a figure of speech, Demon Brat,” Jason said, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, when your rouges see you, they get these idiotic grins and pull out the compliments like there was no tomorrow.”

“One time, Jason, just one time we run into Nigma and suddenly you think I’m some sort of…”

“The guy was practically waxing poetry about you!” Jason interrupted, still grinning. “You could have batted those long doll-like eyelashes of yours and he would have gladly gone back to Arkham on his own!”

“One time,” Tim repeated, hiding his face in his hands when he saw the way Dick’s eyes glinted.

“There’s Dr. Crane,” Dick countered, joining in the teasing for the sheer pleasure that was seeing their too-serious younger brother melt into the chair. “He used to pat your head a lot when you were Robin.”

“He also tried to kill me, remember?” Tim argued, growling.

“What did you expect?” Jason continued. “He’s a villain, but he also wanted to take you home the last time, didn’t he?”

“Harley Quinzel often says he’s like a cute doll,” Dick laughed. “Timmy, you should just quit crime-fighting altogether and start crime-flirting, don’t you think?”

“Bruce,” Tim whined, his fingers spreading over his face so his eyes could implore to their adoptive father. “Stop them.”

“They are right, in a way,” Bruce commented, his own smile finally breaking through his stoic mask.

Tim moaned.

“If I were a Jailbait,” Tim sighed. “Wouldn’t that apply to you as well, Jason?”

All laughter stopped.

“What?” Jason asked, blinking.

“Well,” Dick started giggling. “You did want Timmy to be your Robin once.”

“But I’m not a criminal!” Jason growled, his arm tightening around Tim’s shoulders. “It’s different.”

“You kind of were,” Tim tried, an eyebrow rising in disbelief. “I got you out of jail, remember?”

“Meh, that’s in the past,” the older man shrugged. “And you should totally come to work with me, baby bird; your pretty face would make my job so much easier.”

“Hey!”

“I don’t think your rouge gallery would be impressed by Drake’s looks,” Damian finally added his own two cents. “They are not smart enough.”

“Thank you, Damian?” Tim tried, turning to the youngest Robin.

“You are welcome, Drake, and you are not a Jailbait either.”

“See? Damian knows what he’s talking about!” Tim smiled, but it was short-lived. “Wait, how do you know what a Jailbait is?”

“That retarded clone friend of yours explained the term to me after Ravager called me it,” the boy explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m going to kill Kon,” Tim growled.

“I think Drake’s own villains just suffer a severe case of… what did you call it, Cain?” Damian asked, turning to the woman who had, until then, remained silently amused by the whole ordeal.

“Geniitusalgia,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Exactly, Father’s rouges have the same condition, but on Drake’s case it could be more visible,” the boy continued, nodding his head.

Bruce turned towards his son, an eyebrow raised.

“How can you tell, Damian?” he asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“I believe it’s obvious, Father,” he replied. “Most of Drake’s opponents are people of higher education, outstanding in their own fields of expertise and still sane enough, mostly, to appreciate an equal.”

“… Did you just compliment me?” Tim asked in mild amusement.

“It is not a compliment, Drake,” Damian replied, his own cheeks faintly coloring. “It is a statement of fact. I once thought Cain was just trying to mess with my head, but witnessing the strange infatuation my grandfather seems to have over Father and you, it was quite obvious.”

“Al Ghul?” Dick asked, eyes wide.

“He does seem kind of obsessed,” Jason said, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

“Guys,” Tim complained. “The last thing I want to think about is Ra’s Al Ghul’s creepy presents.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, which prompted all of his children – sans Tim – to turn to him in disbelief.

“B!”

“Bruce!?”

“Grandfather sends you presents?”

“Do tell?”

“Nothing so terrible, really,” Bruce commented, shrugging. “The usual bouquet of roses.”

“And the swords,” Tim added, nodding.

“And the ninja that will occasionally drop jewelry,” Bruce continued.

“And the letters that sometimes magically appear on the bedside table,” Tim sighed.

“Good morning, Detective, your sleeping face is most appealing,” they said in unison, shaking their heads.

“That’s just disturbing,” Jason said, eyes wide.

“And you two are okay with it?” Dick asked.

“It’s not like you can stop him,” Tim sighed.

“It’s too much of an effort for something so trivial,” Bruce added.

“That’s the weirdest thing I have ever heard,” Dick said, grinning. “You two have a romantic stalker.”

“One word, Dick,” Tim growled. “Deathstroke.”

“It was a totally different thing!” Dick protested. “He wasn’t  _courting_  me!”

“Al Ghul is not courting me,” Bruce argued. “I’m not the one he sends the engagement rings to.”

All eyes turned to Tim.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell, Bruce,” he hissed. “And he doesn’t send them; he jams them into my hands.”

“How many have there been?” the older man asked, eyes narrowing suddenly.

“Six or seven…” Tim whispered, his head falling into his folded arms. “…teen?”

“Damn, Baby Bird!” Jason cried, laughing once more. “You sure are a heartbreaker!”

Bruce suddenly slammed his hands on the table lightly, making them all jump.

“We will conclude this meeting for tonight,” he said evenly, eyes set on Tim’s reddened ears. “Tim, you brought those… rings?”

“In the safe, Bruce,” the younger man replied, not lifting his head.

“Dismissed, all,” he said, standing, grabbing Timothy by the arm and dragging him back into the manor, his soft voice echoing around the cave as he berated the teen for not saying something sooner.

“So,” Dick grinned. “Geniitusalgia? I’ve never heard of that word before, Cass.”

“It’s a term she coined,” Damian explained, shaking his head.

“It is a paraphilia that most psychopaths develop when encountering a perceived mental equal,” Cass explained shrugging her small shoulders easily. “A theory of mine.”

“She theorizes Father has a mild case of it over Drake as well,” Damian nodded, arms crossed. “It would explain why he is his favorite.”

“Tim is not Bruce’s favorite!” Dick complained instantly.

“It does make sense,” Jason noted, nodding. “B is one messed up superhero.”

 “Don’t feel bad, Grayson,” Damian said, placing a stiff hand on Dick’s arm. “You are not the one that has to come to terms with the fact Drake of all people will become your new mother one day.”

“DAMIAN!” Tim yelled from the stairs. “I HEARD THAT!”

“SORRY MOTHER!” Damian yelled back, his own wicked smirk curling his lips.

 


End file.
